We found a casual Peruvian place a short Metro ride away in the lively Adams Morgan section of town and enjoyed a savory meal with a bottle of wine before reboarding the Metro to return to Old Town. I tried to tell Tav he didn’t need to escort me home, but he would have none of it. “I am not putting you on a train by yourself at this hour,” he said, although it was just past ten, not two in the morning. Strolling from the Metro stop to my house in near silence, our arms brushing occasionally as we walked, I found myself feeling more content than I had in a long time. The thought jolted me and I tripped on the uneven walkway half a block from my house. Tav caught my arm and asked, “Are you okay?”
His dark eyes searched my face. His hand was warm on my arm and I blamed the wine for heightening my senses and making me ultra-aware of his cedary scent, the warmth that drifted off his body, the dark stubble hazing his jawline. “Fine.”
His gaze lingered on my lips and I swayed toward him, a completely involuntary movement, like breathing or blinking. Over his shoulder, I noticed a light flickering strangely in the upper windows of a house down the block.
“Wha-?”
“Someone’s broken into my house.”
Tav’s gaze followed my pointing finger. His face set in grim lines. “That is not an intruder,” he said. “It is fire.”
Before he could stop me, I was pounding down the sidewalk in my flimsy espadrilles, desperate to reach my house. I vaguely heard him talking to the 911 operator, and then calling at me to stop, but I didn’t wait. I could see that the light was flames, now, dancing at the windows of the ballroom, an eerie interplay of red and yellow and shadow. As I got closer, I could smell the smoke. It caught in my nose and throat, making me cough. I stopped on the sidewalk in front of the house, not foolish enough to try to enter. What could I do? Water from the garden hose wouldn’t reach high enough to tickle the flames, much less extinguish them. Thank God I didn’t have children or pets to rescue.
Tav trotted up beside me and slid an arm around my waist, pulling me in close to his side, as if to ensure I wouldn’t go dashing into the house. I let my head fall onto his strong chest for a moment, comforted by his presence and solidity, before pushing away as the fire trucks came screaming down the street in a swirl of lights. Firefighters piled out and Tav tugged at me, walking me across the street where we could watch the scene without being in the way.
“It is just the upstairs,” he said comfortingly.
I’d already noticed that and had been racking my brain to figure out what might have caught fire up there. Maybe there’d been a short in the stereo system or my computer? The firefighters had dragged a hose up the side stairs and kicked in the door before I could think to offer them a key. The wrinkly, cement-colored hose swelled as water pumped through it and the flames began to falter as the firefighters disappeared inside. A cop car arrived and a crowd began to gather, late diners or moviegoers drawn by the activity and strobing lights. It was only twenty minutes or so before the firefighters emerged, sweaty and smoke-stained, giving a thumbs-up to the firefighters still with the truck. I was about to join them and ask what had happened when an official-looking car pulled up and Detective Lissy stepped out. Great. Just great.
Chapter 17
Detective Lissy and Tav and I sat in my front parlor half an hour later. Lissy wore his usual expression of sour suspicion as he dusted the base of a lamp with a hanky, Tav looked alert and relaxed, and I perched beside him on the edge of the uncomfortable love seat, clenching and unclenching my hand on its scratchy arm. The room smelled like someone had lit a campfire in it and doused it with dirty water.
“But who would want to set my studio on fire?” I asked for the third time since the fire captain had told us the fire had been caused by an accelerant on the ballroom floor and had been largely confined to that one room, due to Tav’s and my timely return. “You got lucky,” the captain summed up, scratching her cheek. “The floor’s toast, but the old boards are still sound. You’ve got some smoke and water damage, but the place is habitable. A floor refinisher and a good cleaning team will have you back in business in a couple of weeks.” She smiled, crinkling the skin around her eyes. “You got lucky.”
“You tell me,” Detective Lissy suggested. “If I was a superstitious man, I’d think you were jinxed, what with finding a dead body upstairs, being attacked-allegedly-by an Argentine diplomat, and having your place set on fire.” He ticked each item off on an upheld finger. “Since I’m not superstitious, I have to ask myself what else could be going on. Where were you this evening, Ms. Graysin?”
“Are you suggesting I set the fire?” I asked. I could understand him suspecting me of Rafe’s death, but this was ridiculous. “Two weeks without being able to hold classes will put a huge dent in my finances,” I said. “Some of the students will go to other studios and they won’t come back. Why in
“To make it look like someone’s out to get you, to make us think there’s someone else out there who might have killed Mr. Acosta,” Lissy answered promptly. “First you tried to distract us with the story about Bazan attacking you-which he completely denies, by the way-then-”
“She was with me,” Tav put in firmly, before Lissy could finish building his case. “From three o’clock on. There is no possible way she could have set the fire.”
“With you,
“It is not ‘interesting’ at all, Lissy, and I resent the implication,” Tav said.
Not one whit perturbed by Tav’s anger, Lissy said, “You two seem very cozy”-he gestured to us as we sat side by side on the love seat and I self-consciously moved my knee from where it had been in casual contact with Tav’s, making Lissy smile with satisfaction-“and it’s a common enough scenario.”
“What is?” I asked.
“Man gets offed by scorned lover and her new man, and they inherit-”
“I was the scorner, not the scornee,” I objected. “I broke it off with Rafe. And that was months ago. I only met Tav after Rafe was murdered. And-”
“You have a prurient mind, Detective Lissy,” Tav said coldly. “Immigration records will show I only arrived in this country after my half brother was killed. You can check them.”
“Be sure I will.” The man stood, brushing at his immaculate slacks.
“My relationship-connection-with Stacy is purely a business one brought about by my brother’s death, not causing it. Since I inherited his share of Graysin Motion, we will have unavoidable interactions until I can sell it.” He didn’t spare me a glance as he said it and I felt unaccountably hurt.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Acosta,” Lissy said with fake amiability. “Just don’t plan on leaving the area without letting me know about it.”
“I am taking Rafael’s body home later this week.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lissy said, striding toward the door.
I followed him, mostly to make sure he left, because I wasn’t exactly in gracious hostess mode. Flipping on the porch light, I opened the door for him and said, “Good night.”
He stepped out, glanced at a moth beating itself against the light, and said, “Your door needs painting.”
I awoke Tuesday morning with a headache-probably from the smoky smell-and a burning desire to get away. I couldn’t teach today, Tav was tied up with business stuff so we couldn’t go over options for the studio, and I just couldn’t face doing paperwork in my kitchen while a specialized cleaning crew tackled the studio. After I got hold of a floor refinisher, I decided, I would go somewhere… anywhere. Having made these very logical decisions, I couldn’t force myself to get out of bed. I lay there on my back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling as congealed and lumpish as a bowl of oatmeal left out all morning. My arms and legs were heavy, refusing to respond to my brain’s halfhearted order to move. A small spider industriously working on its web in the corner where the ceiling met the wall finally motivated me to move. If a stupid arachnid could be up and at ’em, so could I.
